


Cruel Traditions

by BunniesAndBooks



Series: The Christmas Calendar [17]
Category: Glee
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 12:34:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2850989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BunniesAndBooks/pseuds/BunniesAndBooks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 17. Kurt/Rory<br/>Prompt: Something bad happens at school (Rory was beaten up badly, maybe?) and Kurt comes across him on the phone to his mother and crying fairly badly.<br/>Once Rory hangs up, Kurt goes to comfort him and somehow it turns into sweet and gentle kissing from there it turns into hand-jobs/blow-jobs and possibly anal sex.<br/>If there's any mention of Blaine in this, Blaine and Kurt either:<br/>Decided to just be friends or are in an open relationship.<br/>No scat, vore, watersports, character death, etc.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cruel Traditions

“...N-no mom, I- I'm fine,” Kurt hears a faint voice sob out as he walks down the hallway of McKinley High, and he instantly halts his steps, worry creeping into his mind. He recognizes those kinds of all-consuming sobs; so familiar from years of producing them himself when he was certain nobody could hear them and the pain of being bullied and hated came to be too much, the tears just welling over without control.

“No, I- I just f-feel so _stupid_ , mom. I sh-should've _known_ ,” the voice continues unsteadily, and Kurt can hear it sound out weakly through the choir room door. Just that should have made Kurt's brain flash with warning signs when he walked by it seconds earlier, because that door is _never_ closed – there's no need for it to ever be closed, the only people entering the room are part of the glee club or the band.

Silently making his way to the door Kurt peers in through the window, not surprised when he finds Rory burrowed down in the far corner of the room, his knees drawn up to his chest and a phone pressed to his ears as he rocks back-and-forth on the floor. Kurt's heart clenches when he notices how the young exchange student's hair is wet and clinging to his forehead, small droplets of water running down his face and staining his bright green shirt.

Kurt just _knows_ what's happened – it's happened to him more times than he can count, but especially now that it's nearing Christmas it's ever so clearer what's going on. Poor, little Rory has encountered his first swirly, and not just any old swirly, the jocks special super-mega-Christmas-swirly that's given to everybody that they deem losers out of the underclassmen. The only thing 'special' about it is how they don't just flush the toilet once, but _three_ times – not allowing their victims the grace to come up for air in between every flush but holding them down and making them choke and sputter in the filthy toilet water as they gasp for air – making sure their victims are absolutely and irrecoverably drenched.

Kurt himself got one of those his freshman year when he was still trusting enough to believe them when they said they wanted to show him something, then still rather unaccustomed to the bullying he would suffer through in later years. The fallowing year Kurt had avoided all jocks like the plague – even those that had joined glee – in fear of another one of those horrifying and unsanitary meetings with the McKinley High toilets. They'd found him anyway, and had added an additional two flushes, a punishment for needing to chase him round the school for two days after his scheduled appointment. He'd gone home early after that, not able to finish his day still at that school – the memory of almost drowning in a toilet blurring up his sight and making him tremble all over.

He hadn't mentioned a thing about it to his father when asked.

To say Kurt had been overjoyed when missing that special Christmas tradition when transferring to Dalton his third year was like saying he was ecstatic when his father had given him the Navigator for his sixteenth – it was just a given.

And now Rory had suffered through that terrifying Christmas tradition that Kurt hated with a burning passion and wouldn't wish on even his worst enemy – Sebastian included.

Listening in on the younger boy's sobbing conversation with what appeared to be his mother Kurt leant his forehead against the wood, aching to just go in there and gather the young boy up close. He really wanted to soothe that sweet teen, make him know that it hadn't been his fault that the jocks did what they did, that he wasn't alone.

“No, mom! You don't get it, it was _my_ fault-” Kurt could hear Rory stop abruptly, and could hear him sigh tiredly before starting again. “No I know, you just... you go, I'll be fine. Yeah, I'm sure, Ava and Liam needs to sleep, it's not your fault. Yeah, yeah, okay. Talk to you later. Buy.”

Looking once again through the small window Kurt watches as the young Irishman leans back against the wall and digs the heel of his hands against his eyes, seemingly willing the thick stream of tears to stop, to vanish.

Determined Kurt opens the door, smiling gently at Rory when he looks up, furiously brushing away the tears on his face. “Hi,” he says, walking over to the younger teen and sitting down beside him, bumping his shoulder with his own. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Rory tries, fruitlessly. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Oh, I don't know,” Kurt mumbles tiredly. “Maybe because the jocks fooled you into the bathrooms, giving you their holiday swirly special?”

“You know about that?” Rory asks him chocked, then continues suspiciously, frowning. “How long did you listen in on me?”

“Not long,” Kurt answers honestly. “It's just easy to recognize the signs when you've worn them yourself.” When Rory looks at him he nods, holding up two fingers. “They suck, I know.”

“I just feel like I should've known.”

“Everyone does the first time,” Kurt tells him, “but it's not your fault, it's theirs.”

Rory sits there quietly, looking down at his knees. “Sometimes I think I should go home. I have friends there at least.”

The confession hurts, because _of course_ Rory has friends here, of course he does. “You have friends here too.”

“No, I don't,” Rory says, shaking his head. “You guys in glee are the only people I talk to here, and none of you are my friends, not really.”

“Hey, hey! Listen to me,” Kurt pleads, turning Rory's face back towards his own, stroking that soft cheek slowly. “We are all your friends, okay? Every single one of us in Glee club.” The sad boy begins to interrupt, but Kurt won't let him. “No, it's true. Deep down you know that. Didn't Finn bring you to this club in the first place? Didn't Artie offer to help you with your math when he found out you were struggling with it? Didn't you and Mercedes spend almost an hour talking last week about your little siblings? And you know Noah will go all caveman when he finds out what those Neanderthals did to you.”

Rory giggles quietly, stroking away a stray tear from the corner of his eye, smiling as he nods. “True.”

“I'm right, and you know it,” Kurt says, smiling at the young boy. “With us you'll never have to be alone, okay?”

Kurt watches as the still damp boy nods, those sad, pale gray eyes boring into his own. Before he knows it there are a soft pair of lips crashing against his own, but gently so. At first he kisses back on instinct, even going so far to twining his fingers into those soft locks before realizing what's happening. Then he breaks away, not saying a word, only staring at Rory with wide opened eyes as he pants.

And Rory, he looks so small, so unsure, yet so hopeful and determined. Needing. And Kurt can't help but glance down at those reddened lips, licking his own as heat surges through his body.

The second time their lips meet it's sweeter; less hurried and both of them leisurely exploring the other's eager mouths. Kurt cups the sweet boy's cheek, drawing him ever so closer, and he can feel Rory's arms twining around his own waist, nails venturing across his lower back. He hisses feeling them scrape over his spine, but does not part his lips from Rory's soft ones.

This time it's Rory pulling back, both of them drawing in deep gulps of air as they rest their foreheads together, Kurt still caressing the soft skin beneath his palm. Both of their eyes are closed, their eyelashes tickling against the other one's face, but neither of them mind the faint sensations.

Breathing slowly together Kurt can eventually feel how Rory's nose brush against his own, before his lips are claimed once more. Twice more. Thrice more. They trade kisses over and over; gentle pecks and soft, slow meetings of lips and tongues.

Before long Kurt can safely say he knows more about that delectable mouth than he doesn't; every crevice and hidden spot of Rory's mouth has been searched closely, just as his own mouth has been explored extensively by the young Irishman.

Then there's hands roving across his chest; slow, gentle touches that leaves him wanting more. But he needs to know if Rory wants it as well.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks the boy when they catch their breath in between sweet kisses. “It's okay to say no.”

“Yes,” Rory breathes, hands not stopping their movements for a second. “Want to feel close.”

“We can do that in other ways,” Kurt explains softly, breath stuttering when fingers catch over one of his nipples. “We can keep kissing, or we can snuggle, or something else – I don't know. But you don't have to do this if you don't want to.”

“But I do want to!” Rory exclaims, gripping his thin waist strongly, and Kurt has to grab a hold of those surprisingly strong arms to keep from shivering. “And besides,” he continues at a much more sedated pace, “it's not like I've never thought about it. Being with a boy I mean. Being with- It's not like I haven't thought about it.”

Kurt watches as the young exchange student blushes, avoiding Kurt's gaze. And Kurt understands what went unsaid. What Rory was about to say. What he meant.

'Being with _you_.'

The thought that this sweet, innocent boy has thought about him – wants to be with him – is alluring, arousing. And while it doesn't quell every hesitating thought in his mind, it eases his worry to the extent that he can reclaim those luscious lips in yet another kiss – this time far hungrier than any other time they've kissed so far.

Kurt lets his hands fall from their hold on Rory's face and neck, down to the lapels of his shirt, clasping around the first button, silently asking for permission. The slightly taller boy nods, and with slow and measured motions Kurt begins unbuttoning the shirt, soon sliding it off the other teen's shoulders.

Rory is positively stunning; the short glimpse Kurt gets of that pale chest before Rory dives in for another soaring kiss is enough to make Kurt certain of that fact. Faint traces of muscles lure beneath that skin, and his swollen, bright pink nipples seem ridiculously delicious. Kurt really wants to _lick_ them.

“So you've thought about this, huh?” Kurt asks when he breaks away to remove his sweater – Rory had already removed the vest going on top, though Kurt can't remember when, or how. He watches Rory blush, an adorable shade of pink that so impossibly cute.

“You caught that, huh?” Rory asks embarrassed, kneading the hair at the back of his neck.

“Yes,” Kurt smiles, leaning forward and kissing the red cheek. “So what do you want?”

“Can I- can I-” Rory struggles, gesturing with his hands, not getting the words out.

“Can you what?” Kurt grins lightly, teasingly.

“Blow you?” He almost doesn't understand the words, the thick Irish accent coupled with the murmured tone of the words making them almost imperceptible.

But only _almost_ , though.

“Are you sure?” Kurt asks, hands on his own belt, ready to unbuckle it with nimble, eager fingers.

“Erm, yeah,” Rory nods, staring at those hands.

“Okay, then.”

So it isn't long until Kurt is left in only his underwear; shirt and pants pooling beside him on the floor. Standing up he drags one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs forward, sitting down on it before the sweet teen. “It'll be easier this way,” he explains when Rory shoots him questioning glances.

Rory seem to accept it easily enough, but the truth is that Kurt just want to be able to watch this more easily; wants to be able to card his fingers through those thick, curling locks – perhaps tug them at times – as he's being sucked.

Helping the teen to pull the underwear down Kurt guides the inexperienced boy with encouraging words and hands, showing what to do. Informing him to cover his teeth, to not try and take to much – don't want the innocent teen to choke, now do we? – and to just take it at an comfortable pace.

The feeling of that lascivious mouth covering him, taking him in, is more than Kurt had bargained for. Sure Rory is tentative, getting used to these strange, new feelings of it, but it's already so good – and he hasn't even done anything yet! That heat is just so warm, so wet, so gorgeous, and having Rory suckle around his leaking head is positively amazing.

Petting that impossibly soft hair Kurt looks down, watching as Rory licks at him with his eyes shut. Watches as small tremors passes through that kneeling body, watches those big hands resting on his own thighs, gently kneading them as he laps and sucks.

At a particular eager suck Kurt throws his head back, groaning as he digs his fingers into Rory's hair. Tugging he hears Rory as well give out a moan of his own, muffled around the thick length in his mouth. Tugging once more Rory cries out again, and again, and again, and the vibrations those noises make are simply wonderful.

It isn't long before he's aching to come, but he also doesn't want to come before the young boy either, so he pushes Rory off and away, ignoring the indignant whines it produces. Instead he only directs Rory to remove his own pants, and then has him straddling Kurt's lap, sitting down.

Catching those gorgeous lips once again Kurt starts rubbing across the hard length tenting the mint green boxers, caressing it and listening to Rory's subtle moans. He can feel the wet spot covering the fabric, shivers running through his spine understanding how _hot_ Rory had been for this, and rubs more insistently across that particular patch, drawing more delicious noises out of the boy on his lap.

Finding Rory's hand with his own Kurt show him where he wants it the most, and as he lets his own hand travel beneath the only garment remaining on their bodies Kurt can feel fingers curling around him, stroking him. Finding Rory's own member Kurt sets up a slow pace, pumping that length as he continues kissing it's owner.

It doesn’t take Rory long to come; shuddering above him and crying out lowly, shooting sticky ropes of cum into his underwear and over Kurt's hand. Kurt is quick to fallow himself – watching Rory's adorable yet sexy face come enough to do him over, and he spurts all over his own chest.

They kiss more as they come down, lazy movements of their lips as they just revel in being so close to somebody. At one point Kurt sucks a small mark against Rory's collarbone, and the young Irishman counters with bruising his neck.

Luckily it's almost Christmas, and cold as hell. Wearing scarves is in no way inconspicuous. 

“So,” Rory begins eventually, looking anywhere but at Kurt, and Kurt watches on, amused. One would think embarrassment went out the window after having sex, but apparently not. “Think we might do this again sometime?”

“Oh honey,” Kurt coos, and chuckles when Rory's head fall. “Oh, no, I didn't mean it like that. I just thought it was obvious this was _definitely_ happening again. Not until we've gone on a date though, that would just be poor etiquette.”

Looking up at him with wet eyes Rory stutters out his next words, “Are you sure?”

Only nodding Kurt hugs the boy closer, reminding himself that Rory is still oh so vulnerable from that meeting with the jocks earlier. He will have to take things carefully with the insecure teen, but from the looks of things, it will be _so_ worth it.

 _So_ worth it.


End file.
